aborted bliss

i come back a different person. even my shadow falls on the wall differently- elongated three degrees obliquely. old scars start to hurt in the cold two am epiphanies where maybe i remember lies to be truths.

i stripped naked and swam too far out into the ocean. i remember wishing I never had to go back. let the current take me. the sun burn me. salt tasted good on my lips. let the undertow get a fast grip on my ankles. let no one see i was swimming away, swimming under, swimming far till my limbs stopped their struggle.

and then they-the merrymakers of tequila sunsets and shamans of self-confessed faiths-turned their eyes on me.

reggae baby. dance. kiss. fuck. kill. die.

you are not much different after all. puff? it’s all good man.

don’t ask. bad luck to look back lest you freeze into a pillar of salt. no, no rituals here. see that girl that beats the congo? see her feet? just keep time. it’s a fiesta señorita. la muerta.

he gives you a smile, see? see how coyly he gives it. in a moment, faster than you think, he takes your soul.

go peddle your heart somewhere else. it’s no use to you. it’s no use to me.

slow baby. breathe. just keep time.

you are no different. love it. you must.

weed noodle

they told me-4 months after- it wasn't the sea salt or the sand between my toes that made me happy that day. there was something in the noodles. a bag of it.

great. just great. my first high and i didn't even realize it was synthetic. might as well. i would have been too chicken to try on my own anyway.

so that makes me wonder- maybe there are things in life that i would have to be forced or tricked into to experience them. wimpy, i suppose but hey, i don't know anyone who's brave all the time.

i wonder if i take that road. shape my life around that and let things happen to me. i think maybe i just miss that hot pot of noodle.